Sirius Black at Godric's Hollow, October 31, 1981
by maraudersmaps
Summary: Sirius Black hit the pavement before his flying motorbike did.


Sirius Black hit the pavement before his flying motorbike did.

The 21-year-old didn't look back once when the vehicle landed on the road a few seconds after him - in fact, he didn't even hear the crunch of metal on concrete. He could barely feel his body throbbing from the impact of hitting the ground from several metres up, could barely smell the faint tinge of burned material in the air, could barely drag himself towards the wrecked front door.

The only thing he could do right now was feel his heart break. He knew the pain was excruciating, but his brain only just acknowledged the pain. He wasn't aware that rivers of salty tears were streaming from his eyes until he could taste them.

Before he could run any further, the huge form of a man emerged through the doorway.

_Him?!_

Sirius gave a huge roar of anguish, drawing his wand and muttering the beginnings of one of the worst curses he knew -

"_Sirius!_" The voice bellowed, and a smidgen of familiarity shone within the deep recesses of Sirius' grief. He let his arm drop, the curse hitting the street and blowing a huge hole into the ground, bits of tarmac flying in all directions.

"Hagrid?" He croaked. The half-giant's face looked grave, tear tracks streaking down his huge face.

"Sirius." Hagrid's own voice had now diminished into a broken gasp. "Sirius, I'm so sorry. Lily an' James, Lily an' James…" He howled in despair, shaking his head. Sirius fell to his knees, fresh tears accompanying his shattered sobs. Hagrid comforted Sirius the best he could for the best part of five minutes, his huge hand set solidly on Sirius' shoulder.

Soon, a bawl escaped Hagrid's arms. Hagrid immediately restrained his tears, shaking slightly as he composed himself, before looking down at a bundle in his huge arms.

"It's all righ', Harry, it's all righ'." He cooed, his voice laced with despair.

"Harry?" Sirius exclaimed in a broken voice. "Harry's _alive_?"

"Indeed 'e is." Hagrid replied, the baby quietened. "I dunno wha' 'appened, buh Dumbledore sent me ter fetch 'im."

"How did he _survive_?" Sirius gaped in wonder at the little baby. What could have possibly happened?! How could one of the Darkest wizards of all time fail to kill a baby? What on earth had Harry done? Lily? James?

The thought of Harry's parents sent new stabs of pain through his chest. Sirius moaned and dragged himself towards the baby.

"Harry." He whispered as he reached James' son, looking down into the chubby face. Sirius had seen Harry on several occasions before, and the sight of him made Harry smile widely and reached out for his face.

"Pah foo!" He squealed in an attempt to say Padfoot. The uttering of his nickname made fresh tears prick the man's eyes, but he held them back.

"Hey, Harry." He said gently, brushing the messy black hair from the baby's forehead, before gasping. "Hagrid! His forehead!"

A bloody-looking cut seemed to be etched onto the baby's head.

"I know, I know, Sirius. Buh he can't seem to feel it much anymore…"

"It must be a magical injury… Give Harry to me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him." He reached out for the baby, the last remnant of Lily and James, the only connection he had left to his best friend. His mind automatically started forming plans on getting a huge house, all the money Harry would ever need, all the love Sirius would lavish upon him, before Hagrid shook his head.

"Sorry, Sirius, buh I can't. Dumbledore said 'Arry's supposed ter go to 'is Aunt and Uncle's."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed. "But I'm his _godfather_. Hagrid, please… Lily… James…" He moaned again.

After a few more minutes of pleading, Sirius had to give in.

"Hagrid, take my motorbike. Please. It's faster than most broomsticks. It'll get you to Dumbledore in no time."

Hagrid eyed the motorbike. Sirius had shown him how to ride it once, when he had first bought it and flashed it around to everyone in the Order.

"Yeh sure? You love tha' motorbike…"

"I won't need it anymore." Sirius shook his head, gesturing in the general direction of the motorbike. "Please, Hagrid. It's the least I can do."

Hagrid agreed after a few more moments of internal debate, before settling onto the motorbike, fixing Harry into place in the crook of his huge arm, bidding Sirius farewell and driving into the night.

With Harry and Hagrid gone, Padfoot's brain switched back into desperate mode, forcing his body into the same state it was when he had jumped towards the house in grief, needing to see if everything was true, or just a sick, sick joke. He sprinted for the entrance to the house.

The front door had been blasted backwards into the hallway, but it was hard to make anything out. The lightbulbs had been shattered into oblivion from the force of the previous explosion, so only the dim stars, moon and streetlamps lit the inside of the house.

Sirius Black broke at the sight that met him once he had crossed the threshold.

His legs gave way, his arms instinctively flailing the air, trying to find something to grab hold of - his hands found the doorframe and held on to it for dear life as their owner gasped, fresh tears spilling over and tumbling incessantly down towards the floor.

James Potter's corpse lay across the hallway.

Sirius let go of the doorframe and jumped in an animalistic manner towards his best friend, his brother. James was dressed in everyday Muggle clothes, lying on his back against the bottom of the stairs, thrown backwards from the force of the curse that had killed him. Even in death, he lay as a feeble obstacle on the path to his wife and son. His glasses were lying several feet away, the lenses cracked beyond repair, his wand nowhere to be seen. His hair was just as messy as it had been when he was alive, almost as if he had just rumpled it with his hand. His arms were splayed in a particularly vulnerable-looking position, his face pointing upwards, his mouth slightly open in his last exclamation before death, his hazel eyes open and unblinking, fixed on the ceiling.

"Prongs." Sirius half-croaked, half-gasped. "James." His voice was stronger the second time, yet more broken, cracking at the end with a gut-wrenching sob. Sirius Black clutched James Potter desperately. He _couldn't _be dead. He _couldn't_be. Not James. Not James.

James had been the person to save Sirius from being a spiteful, blood-obsessed Death Eater. The boy who saw the good in him and nurtured it, the boy who he had paired with to become legends in Hogwarts folklore. The man who had been there for him no matter what, the man who he considered _more _than a brother.

"James. Prongs. _Please_." Sirius begged, his hands either side of James' head as he crouched over him. The hazel eyes had lost their spark of life - they were cold, hard, glazed over. They weren't James' eyes. "Please wake up. Please."

His head bent over his best friend, his wails and moans becoming less and less human, Sirius seemed to be frozen in place for eternity.

James was dead.

James… was dead.

The only thing that brought him out from his seemingly eternal mourning was the the thought of Lily.

Sirius' head snapped upwards, looking up the stairs. She must be up there.

The Marauder closed James' eyes, his fingers shaking. Deciding that he didn't have the capacity to shift the corpse, he carefully stepped over it, and then broke into a bound, jumping three stairs at a time.

Reaching the upstairs hallway, he spotted another door that had been blasted open, and inhaled sharply.

_Lily._

He stepped warily into the room, and what was left of his heart sent cutting, shooting pains through his body. The body of the beautiful Lily Potter lay on the floor in front of Harry's cot, just as limp and eerie as her husband's. Lily was lying on her side, her right arm stretched above her head, the left lying down across her chest. Also dressed in Muggle clothes, Lily might have looked like she was sleeping, if her emerald green eyes weren't wide open. Her face was frozen in what would have been a petrified scream, had the muscles in her face not slackened slightly after she died. Sirius was frozen, staring at Lily Potter, strewn protectively before her son's now empty cot. She had clearly died whilst trying to save him, and as Sirius' mind registered this, a huge lump formed in his throat, causing him to well up with tears again and choke slightly.

"Lily…"

He bent down over his best friend's wife, closing her eyes too.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, shaking uncontrollably.

It was his fault. All entirely his fault. The Fidelius Charm had been performed barely a week ago - he had been there himself. _He _should have been Secret Keeper. He should have begged and fought to keep the title, instead of suggesting that they switch to Wormtail.

Wormtail.

More anger surged through his body than anyone could comprehend. It burned through his brain, causing his muscles to tense and his fists to clench. Peter would pay. He would _kill _Peter Pettigrew, just like the worthless wretch himself had carelessly thrown away the lives of not only his best friend, but two of the most amazing people on the planet. After all the years of Marauding, pranking, and bonding like brothers, Peter had betrayed them. And now Lily and James were dead, their bodies lying still on the carpet of their home, gone forever.

The thought tasted bitter.

"Peter Pettigrew." He murmured, every particle of his being filled with hate and rage, his limbs trembling. "Peter Pettigrew, I swear to Merlin, I will find you, and I will _kill you_." His mind dredged up the memory of Peter from earlier that day, seeming nervous somewhat as a handful of Order members ate breakfast. He distinctly remembered asking if something was wrong, only for Peter to shake his head violently. He had brushed it off as something minor. He had brushed it off…

Like a mad man, Padfoot drew his wand again and ran wildly out of the room, down the stairs and leaping over the entire last half, landing several feet away from his best friend and not stopping. He ran out of the house, down the broken path, and into the night.

He would find Peter Pettigrew. He would find him and inflict the longest, most excruciating death Sirius could imagine. His hand itched to hurl curses, his brain driven mad by the anger and hate that filled every atom of his person. The suffocating grief that had twisted and gripped him before had been replaced by pure, unadulterated hate. Sirius would never be a whole man again.

Swearing vengeance in a rough, broken tone of voice, Sirius Black twisted on the spot to Apparate, leaving behind the corpses of Lily and James Potter.


End file.
